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The Summer gives his radiant day,
The Autumn's ripening sunbeam shines,
The Winter sends his drenching shower,
WHEN Israel, of the Lord beloved,
There rose the choral hymn of praise,
With priest's and warrior's voice between.
No portents now our foes amaze,
Our fathers would not know THY ways,
But, present still, though now unseen!
And oh, when stoops on Judah's path
Our harps we left by Babel's streams,
And mute are timbrel, trump, and horn.
YE midnight shades, o'er nature spread!
On this pale ground,
Through all this deep surrounding gloom,
The sober thought,
The tear untaught,
Those meetest mourners at a tomb.
Lo! as the surpliced train drew near
With trembling stream,
Attending tapers faintly dart;
Each sculptured stone,
Now let the sacred organ blow,
With solemn pause, and sounding slow; Now let the voice due measure keep, In strains that sigh, and words that weep; Till all the vocal current blended roll,
Not to depress, but lift, the soaring soul:
To lift it in the Maker's praise,
Who first inform'd our frame with breath,
And, after some few stormy days,
Now, gracious, gives us o'er to death.
No King of Fears
In him appears
Who shuts the scene of human woes;
Beneath his shade
The dead alone find true repose.
Then, while we mingle dust with dust,
And man most happy when he dies!
Fair spring at last
Receives him on her flowery shore!
Where pleasure's rose
And sin and sorrow are no more!
SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY ALEXANDER SELKIRK, DURING HIS SOLITARY ABODE IN THE ISLAND OF JUAN FERNANDEZ.
I AM monarch of all I survey,
My right there is none to dispute;
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
That sages have seen in thy face?
I am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey alone;
The beasts that roam over the plain
Society, friendship, and love,
In the ways of religion and truth, Might learn from the wisdom of age, And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth
Religion! what treasure untold
Resides in that heavenly word!
Ye winds, that have made me your sport,
Some cordial endearing report
Of a land I shall visit no more.
Though a friend I am never to see.
How fleet is a glance of the mind!